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One only thing can keep you down,
For your great foul too mean;

You'd not, to mount a bishop's throne,
Pay HOMAGE to the Queen,

NELL AND JOHN.

WHEN Nell, given o'er by the Doctor, was

dying,

And John at the chimney ftood decently crying;
'Tis in vain, faid the woman, to make fuch ado,
For to our long home we must all of us go!

True, Nell, reply'd John; but, what yet is the worst
For us that remain, the beft always go first:
Remember, dear wife, that I said so last year,
When you loft your white heifer, and I my brown
mare!

BIBO

BIBO AND CHARON.

WHEN Bibo thought fit from the world to re

treat,

As full of champagne as an egg 's full of meat,
He wak'd in the boat; and to Charon he said,
He would be row'd back, for he was not yet dead.
Trim the boat, and fit quiet, ftern Charon reply'd:
You may have forgot, you was drunk when you dy'd.

WIVES BY THE

DOZEN.

DEATH! how thou spoil'ft the best project

of life!

Said Gabriel, who ftill, as he bury'd one wife,

For the fake of her family, marry'd her cousin; And thus, in an honeft collateral line,

He still marry'd on till his number was nine,

Full forry to die till he made up his dozen.

FA

FATAL LOVE.

POOR Hal caught his death, standing under a fpout,

Expecting till midnight, when Nan would come out, But fatal his patience, as cruel the dame,

And curs'd was the weather that quench'd the man's flame.

Whoe'er thou art, that read'it thefe moral lines, Make love at home, and go to bed betimes.

A

SAILOR'S WIFE.

QUOTH Richard in jeft, looking wiftly at Nelly,

Methinks, child, you seem something round in the belly!

Nell anfwer'd him fnappifhly, how can that be,

When my

husband has been more than two years at fea?

Thy hufband! quoth Dick: why that matter was

carry'd

Moft fecretly, Nell; I ne'er thought thou wert marry'd.

VOL. II.

ON

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READER, I was born, and cry'd;

I crack'd, I smelt, and fo I dy'd.
Like Julius Cæfar's was my death,
Who in the Senate loft his breath.
Much alike entomb'd does lie
The noble Romulus and I:

And when I dy'd, like Flora fair,
I left the Commonwealth my heir..

THE

MODERN

SAIN T.

HER time with equal prudence Silvia shares,

First writes a BILLET-DOUX, then says her prayers; Her mafs and toilet; vefpers and the play;

Thus God and Ashtaroth divide the day :

Con

Conftant fhe keeps her Ember-week and Lent,
At Eafter calls all Ifrael to her tent:
Loofe without bawd, and pious without zeal,
She ftill repeats the fins fhe would conceal.
Envy herself from Silvia's life muft grant,
An artful woman makes a Modern Saint.

THÉ

PARALLEL.

PROMETHEUS, forming Mr. Day,
Carv'd fomething like a man in clay.
The mortal's work might well miscarry ;
HE, that does Heaven and earth controul,

Alone has power to form a foul,
His hand is evident in Harry.

Since one is but a moving clod,
T'other the lively form of God;
'Squire Wallis, you will scarce be able,
Το prove all poetry but fable.

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